


...One Night to Speed Up Truth

by futureimperfect



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time RPF
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureimperfect/pseuds/futureimperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tonight she’s got that 'Mayor Mills' thing going on that she tends to do for press, though the skirt’s a little shorter and the neckline looks precarious- not that Jen’s looking, exactly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	...One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write RPF (or at all). That said, I claim to know nothing about the 'people' depicted below, so really it's my take on them as 'characters.' Still, something about this prompt got to me, and I decided to challenge myself.
> 
> Written for the Dreamwidth Femslash_Kink Meme for the prompt: Crossover: RPF/OUAT: Jennifer Morrison/Regina Mills. Regina thinks Jennifer is Emma.

_Regina ducks into the darkened room.  Music pulses through the space, the throng moves with it, and lights dance in every direction like sparks of magic.  They splash across faces, across tables and the glass in her hand.  It’s not a place she’d been in before, but the former queen is nothing if not adaptable.  She’s a quick learner- both at standing out and blending in.  Tonight’s definitely a night to blend, to fade into the surroundings._

_That’s why, in fact, she’s here at all.  Taking a chance to be illicit.  Some might think it comes with the territory of being a feared monarch, but even that’s a pedestal of it’s own that one can fall from particularly hard.  Tonight’s definitely a risk, but when she sees that flash of blonde hair across the room, she thinks it just might be worth it._

_They’re both in New York under pretexts- a reunion with a friend, and an ‘It’s none of your damn business,’ respectively.  Regina chose the excuses, while Emma the destination._

_Separate entrances, and the exit….it was too soon to tell.  Here, it mattered less.  Maine was full of expectations and histories, fears and feuds.  But against it all there was a growing need, and that was what Regina has in mind as she threads her way around the edge of the room._      

 

Jen doesn’t have an entourage, no private booth or big expectations.  And it’s kinda nice, actually.  The others might show, she extended the invitation and the address, but she’s not sure.  The rounds of press in New York take a lot out of you, and they’re all a little jetlagged still anyway.  

 

She hasn’t been to this club in years, but the DJ tonight is a friend of a friend, and it hadn’t taken too much convincing to get her to stop by.  It’s nice and dark, and she doesn’t mind pretending to be on the scene for a little while.  Her early morning is over, now it’s just a few interviews for the magazines with the rest of them before the flight back to Vancouver.  She finds a seat at the edge of the room- she’ll need to finish at least one drink before she feels like dancing.  

 

She’s not in the mood to get wasted, just someplace in the area of ‘nicely drunk’ maybe.  It’ll give her something to say when she has to report back on ‘how NYC was.’  She might not be 21 anymore, but she hasn’t reached the point where she wants to answer, ‘oh just work.’

 

She’s just settling back when a shadow looms over her right shoulder.  She turns, and her eyes go a little wider in surprise,

 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

The other woman looks taken aback for a beat, before raising an eyebrow and offering a sideways smile,

 

“Well, you did invite me.”

 

Jen covers, and returns the smile with one of her own.  It’s not that she’s shocked or anything that Lana’s here- she’s a New York girl through and through and not the last one to take people up on invites. The simple truth is they just don’t spend too much time together without the rest of the gang, or a script between them.  

 

She moves over to let Lana take a seat next to her, and can’t help glancing over the brunette’s shoulder to see if she’s alone.  They try to chat- about small, pointless things really- Jen’s not in the mood to talk shop, but the music is loud and they keep having to move closer together until they’re basically lips to ears.  Overall it’s a little stilted, so when a waiter puts down two fresh drinks they definitely didn’t have to order (Jen will send a thank you text to her friend’s friend later), they reach for them perfectly in concert.  

 

They both laugh.       

 

It’s a little easier after that.  Maybe it’s the drink (whatever this is is plenty strong) or maybe it’s the growing energy around them as the club fills in the last empty spaces with people not on the VIP list.  

 

Jen looks sideways at Lana.  She still seems a little more tense than her usual off-camera normal.  Even her clothes are a little buttoned-down for the venue.  Not that they’re not flattering, but she’s got that Mayor Mills thing going on that she tends to do for press and they tease her about, though the skirt’s a little shorter and the neckline looks precarious- not that Jen’s looking, exactly.  

 

The free drink gets about halfway down, and then the room softens just enough around the edges that Jen’s ready to give up their table for awhile.  She takes a last long drink and nods questioningly in the direction of the dance floor.  Lana seems to jolt just a little, but she follows right behind.  The crowd is getting thick, and out of habit from enough of these nights in her life, she reaches back and takes Lana’s hand to pull her through after her.  Their eyes meet for a moment and Jen’s rewarded by a smile.

 

They find some breathing room near the front, and start moving with the beat.  Jen will admit, the DJ’s pretty good and she starts to feel herself smile.  It’s a room full of beautiful people, bathed in flashes of changing colors and excuses to let go.  Lana’s to the side and just in front of her, and she moves a little closer.  Unsurprisingly, she’s a good dancer.  Jen’s seen her play around on set between takes, or when they all need a pick-up during a long night, but she’s never joined in with her- not like this really.  

 

She’s no slouch herself, and puts on a decent show.  Lana looks over at her, and Jen thinks she sees the brunette’s eyes darken a little.  To her other side, there’s a guy trying to catch her attention.  He’s cute enough, and she plays along for a cheap thrill, but when she feels his hands drifting south she shoots him a warning look.  It goes ignored, and she’s about to extricate herself more forcefully when she feels Lana doing it for her.  

 

Jen knows the ropes, and lets the other woman pull her away.  She’s done the same a hundred times for friends, but there’s a little something more possessive in the way Lana’s hands are tightening on her hips.  The guy shrinks away, no doubt on the receiving end of one of Lana’s trademark glares, and Jen even pities him for a split second before she feels warm breath on her neck.   

 

There’s something both enticing and claustrophobic about how it makes her feel, and the sober part of her tells her it’s time to step away, but the part that almost finished those drinks can’t stop thinking how soft and warm the body behind her is.  They’re starting to attract some attention now, and maybe that’s the point.  So far, though, she hasn’t heard anyone calling them by name, so for tonight they’re anonymous.

 

What’s happening is so, so far from how Jen had imagined the night would go that it doesn’t seem real.  The music slows a beat, and she turns in Lana’s arms.  She can feel the others close around- everyone’s putting on a show but she feels like the center of it and they both know how addicting that can be.  The other woman’s hands link around her waist, and they dip and sway in unison.  

 

They’re so close, and against her better judgment, Jen’s raising her head and meeting Lana’s stare.  A move like that is dangerous under normal circumstances, but here and now it’s damn as good as lethal, and  the next thing she knows there’s soft, full lips pressing against her own.  It comes as an afterthought that she was the one who moved first.  

 

Alarm bells go off in her mind like fireworks, one after another.  Words like ‘friend,’ ‘taken,’ ‘coworker,’ and not the least of all ‘girl’ go roaring through her head, and she tenses to spring away and apologize like crazy when she realizes that Lana is now definitely, definitely kissing her back and shit, she’s had a whole lot worse.  Actually, she’s having a hard time remembering having had any better and that’s fucking downright terrifying.

 

That’s the moment that makes her freeze and pull back for real.  She catches a little groan from Lana as she does so, and the rest of the club goes on moving and pulsing around them.  The blood is still rushing in her ears, blocking out anything but her own pulse and the baseline from the speakers.  Lana might be talking to her, she’s not sure.  What she is sure of, is that she feels something pressed into her palm and she closes her fingers around it.  

 

There’s a blur of movement in front of her that Jen realizes a second too late is the other woman stepping away.  She just catches a last glance over the brunette’s shoulder as she disappears back into the crowd toward the exit.    

 

Jen’s just starting to collect herself when a familiar voice snaps her out of her trance,

 

“Sorry we’re late.”  Ginny leans in and gives her a playful half-hug.  She’s already half-dancing, and between the pixie cut and her casual outfit, she looks like a teenager at a school dance.  Emilie and Josh are half a step behind, still fighting through the crowd to join them.  Had Jen not still been reeling, she would have laughed at the entire sight. She takes a moment and tries to wipe what she’s sure is a deer in the headlights look off her face.

 

“Oh, hey….um, glad you made it.”  She’s surprised she got the words out in the right order, but Ginny doesn’t seem to have noticed.  She just chatters on, yelling to be heard above the noise in the room,  

 

“Lana said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it out tonight, she caught an earlier flight home.”

 

Jen does a double-take,

 

“She what?”

 

Ginny yells louder,

 

“She left!”  The brunette waives her hand in a motion like an airplane taking off, “She and Bobby went home. They took a car to the airport an hour ago.”

Jen lets that sink in, and looks down at her hand to find she’s holding a hotel key card.  None of it makes sense, which comes as somewhat of a relief in a way. Still, before anyone else notices, the card ends up safely in her back pocket.


End file.
